


Truth Behind The Wings

by RedShirtWriter34567



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Caring Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley Has Chronic Pain (Good Omens), Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-18
Updated: 2020-01-18
Packaged: 2021-02-18 22:08:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22300627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedShirtWriter34567/pseuds/RedShirtWriter34567
Summary: Crowley suffers from chronic pain in his back and his wings.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 139





	Truth Behind The Wings

**Author's Note:**

> I honestly don't know where I got this idea, but enjoy!

Crowley was acting strange. Aziraphale could tell by the subtle changes in the demon's behavior. He was snappy and on edge most of the time. He kept rolling his shoulders and grimacing. He also was keeping his dark sunglasses on when he was with Aziraphale, when he normally had them off, allowing the angel to see those beautiful golden eyes of his.

"Are you alright, dear boy?" Aziraphale asked, watching as Crowley shifted around on the sofa, trying to find a comfortable position. 

"Why do you keep asking me that?" The demon snapped. His brow was furrowed, and Aziraphale knew he was glaring at him through his glasses.

"I only ask because you've been acting odd for several days," Aziraphale responded. "You wear your glasses even when we're alone, and you keep shifting and rolling your shoulders. Not to mention you've just been very moody lately. Are you about to shed?" 

Crowley's face turned as red as his hair as he sputtered. "No, I'm not about to bloody shed! This has nothing to do with that!" 

The demon stood up from the couch in a huff and made low sound in his throat, like a whimper. Aziraphale stood up from his chair, watching the demon closely. 

"Crowley, my love," Aziraphale said, slowly closing the distance between him and the demon, "whatever this is, please let me help you." 

Crowley shook his head and stepped back from the angel. "You can't help this, Angel. No one can." His voice cracked as Aziraphale got closer to him, reaching a hand out to remove his glasses. 

"May I try?" Aziraphale asked, quietly. 

Crowley sighed and nodded. Aziraphale tenderly slid the glasses off the demon's face, and his heart very nearly broke when he saw Crowley's eyes. They were sad and puffy, as though he'd been crying, and pain showed so clear in those gold depths that Aziraphale felt it in his very being. 

He touched Crowley's face, stroking his cheekbone. "What's wrong, dearheart?" 

A tear dripped down Crowley's cheek. "It hurts." 

"What hurts?" Aziraphale asked, wiping the tear away. 

"My back," the demon whispered. "My wings. They're burning and aching and it hurts and I can't get rid of it!" 

Aziraphale pulled his demon into a hug. Crowley sobbed against his shoulder. Aziraphale stroked his love's soft red hair. 

"Is there anything I can do?" He asked softly in Crowley's ear. 

"I'm not sure," Crowley sniffled. "Nothing I've tried has ever gotten it to stop. I can't miracle the pain away, and mortal medicine does nothing." 

"Perhaps I can try," Aziraphale said, wiping Crowley's tears away with his thumbs. "I might not be able to take away the pain, but maybe I can at least ease it for awhile." 

"Okay," Crowley agreed quietly. 

Aziraphale took his hand and led him upstairs into the flat above the shop. He had a few ideas about how he could ease Crowley's pain. If his wings were part of the problem, the flat had more space for the demon to unleash them he needed to. 

"Take your shirt off and sit on the bed, love," Aziraphale said as they entered the flat. "I've got an idea." 

Crowley obeyed, snapping his fingers to remove his shirt before sitting down on their bed, still rolling and shifting his back to ward off the pain. Aziraphale snapped his fingers, and a soft-bristled brush, and a bottle of perfumed oil appeared on the bedside table. 

"Let you're wings out, Crowley," Aziraphale instructed, seating himself on the bed behind the demon.

Crowley took a deep breath and shrugged his shoulders. Black wings burst forth from his shoulder blades, glimmering like fresh ink in candlelight. They were trembling like leaves in a storm. Aziraphale picked up the brush, staring in awe at the wings, so different from his own yet still beautiful. 

"Are you ready?" He asked Crowley. Wings were incredibly sensetive and grooming them was a very personal matter. It seemed appropriate to ask for consent before touching them.

"Yes," Crowley answered. "I'm ready, Angel." 

Aziraphale reached out to touch the trembling feathers with one hand, marveling at how soft they felt under his fingers, and began to brush them tenderly, the same way he would brush Crowley's hair sometimes.

"Damn," Crowley murmured. 

"What is it?" Aziraphale asked, stopping. 

"Don't stop," Crowley said, voice sounding both shocked and relieved. "I think it's helping. Keep going." 

Aziraphale nodded and continued to brush the feathers and smooth down the out of place ones. Crowley purred under the careful treatment. For an hour Aziraphale brushed the demon's wings, being mindful not to tug or brush to hard. Eventually he put the brush down and picked up the oil. He poured some on a cloth that he miracled up. 

"You can put your wings away now, dear," Aziraphale said. "Do they feel better?" 

"Much," Crowley said. He shrugged his shoulders again and the wings vanished back into the ethereal plane. 

Aziraphale rubbed the cloth across the expanse of Crowley's back, kneading the muscles with his other hand. Crowley would occasionally let out a low moan whenever the angel found a particularly tight spot, but other than that he stayed quiet. Aziraphale made sure he'd wiped down the whole expanse of Crowley's back before he stopped and pulled the demon against his chest. 

"How do you feel?' He asked, kissing the top of Crowley's head. 

"Fantastic," Crowley said lazily. "For the first time I can't feel the pain." 

"Will it come back?" Aziraphale asked, concerned. 

"Eventually," Crowley admitted. "It never truly goes away really. Some days it's tolerable, other days it's not." 

"Have you always had this pain?" Aziraphale asked curiously. 

"No," Crowley said. "I didn't have it back when I was...you know. It happened after I Fell and lost my wings." 

"Lost your wings?' Aziraphale furrowed his brow in confusion. "What do you mean?" He didn't mean to press. Crowley didn't like to talk about his Fall, but this didn't make sense.

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, darling," Aziraphale added hastily. 

"It's okay, Angel," Crowley said, patting his hand. "My white wings died in Hell. They burned because of all the sulfer and fire. The feathers turned brittle and fell off, leaving just bone and muscle until the black feathers grew in. White doesn't go very well with Hell's color scheme, just like I'm sure black doesn't go well with Heaven's." 

"Is that where the pain comes from?" Aziraphale asked, shocked. "The burning and aching?" 

"Yeah," Crowley said heavily. "Like I said, some days the pain is tolerable, other days it isn't." 

"Why didn't you say anything?" Aziraphale asked. 

"It's just like with thunderstorms, Zira," Crowley said, turning to look Aziraphale in the eye. "I didn't want to look weak to you. I'm still not used to being so vulnerable. Vulnerability in Hell is like catnip down there. It makes you an easy target. But I know I can be that way around you now. It just scares me sometimes, being so open."

Aziraphale kissed Crowley on the lips. Crowley wound his arms around the angel, settling into his lap. 

"You never have to be afraid of your feelings around me, my love," Aziraphale told Crowley when they separated. "I'll always be here for you, through anger and tears and laughter, I'll be here." 

"I know you will be, Angel," Crowley said with a grin. "I'll be here for you too. Always and forever." 

They kissed again, and for the rest of the night, Crowley's pain never returned.


End file.
